💀ASCENDERS: High School For The Recently Departed (Book #1)
💀ASCENDERS: SKYPUNCH (Book #2)
💀ASCENDERS: OMORROW (Book #3)
💀ASCENDERS: 11:11 (Book #4)
Add To Your TBR GR http://bit.ly/2KRv018
💀ASCENDERS: High School For The Recently Departed (Book #1)
💀ASCENDERS: SKYPUNCH (Book #2)
💀ASCENDERS: OMORROW (Book #3)
💀ASCENDERS: 11:11 (Book #4)
Add To Your TBR GR http://bit.ly/2KRv018
Publication date: July 31st 2018
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
An Epilogue Novella
At last, Elea and Rowan are settling in to their new lives. Trouble is, Rowan is spending a lot of time cleaning up messes from his childhood. And considering the nightmare that was his mother, those are some ugly messes indeed. In fact, the experience is enough to make Rowan vow that he never wants children of his own.
Someone was wearing out their knuckles on my bedroom door. Yanking my covers over my head, I tried blocking out the sound. It didn’t work.
I stifled a groan. Most days, I’d say this about my life: It’s good to be the queen. Sadly, today wasn’t one of those days. Last night, I’d asked the castle servants not to disturb me until dawn. Now I lay in bed, trying to rest, and yet?
Whoever it was, they weren’t giving up.
I opened my eyes a crack, finding myself alone in bed. My husband wasn’t here, but that was no surprise. Rowan knew I wanted to sleep in, so he’d slipped off a while ago. As for my bedchamber, the place looked as it always did. The red stone walls were lined with tapestries of animals being magickally brought to life by mages. My own spell books lay in neat piles on a nearby table.
Peering through the chamber’s window holes, the outside world looked dark. Definitely not morning. There could only be one explanation; the staff must have missed my orders to sleep in.
“Please return later,” I called. “At dawn.”
A muffled voice echoed through the closed door. “It’s long past dawn. The sun came up more than twelve hours ago.”
The speaker was Jicho, my little brother in law. “Are you toying with me?” Jicho loved his practical jokes.
“Not at all. It’s nine o’clock at night. The Fete of the Family has already started. Rowan’s been there for hours.”
Sitting up, I carefully scanned the view from my window. Sure enough, the moon peeped over the sill.
That was unexpected, not to mention concerning. Rowan’s people were Creation Casters, mages who gained magick from life. I’d been trained as a Necromancer, so my mage powers were drawn from the echoes of existence in bones. Together, we’d been ruling both classes of magick users for a year now, and I’d learned one thing early on.
Creation Casters loved their festivals. A lot.
Rowan and I tried to attend as many celebrations as passible, and Fete of the Family was one of the biggest. Not one that I wanted to miss. After pushing off my covers, I set my bare feet on the cold marble floor. “I’ll join you soon.”
In this case, soon meant after I had a warm bath and some hot food. Caster parties lasted all night. No doubt, there was still plenty of time to join the fun.
“No, you need to hurry.” Jicho lowered his voice to a hush. “I’ve had a vision.”
My breath caught. Although he was only ten years old, Jicho was a powerful Seer who often had painfully accurate visions of the future.
This was not good.
Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.
Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates
(The Uprising, #1)
Publication date: March 31st 2018
Genres: Adult, Dystopian
The Uprising Series tells the story of three freedom fighters and their friends in high — and low — places that come together to overthrow a vainglorious Emperor and his militaristic Cabal to restore the city, and the way of life, they once knew and loved.
In The Gathering, Jamie Ryan has defected from the Cabal and has joined his former brothers-in-arms — Basile Perrinault and Kanoa Shinomura — to form a collective known as The Uprising. When an explosion leads to him crossing paths with Evanora Cunningham — a product of Jamie’s past — he discovers that The Uprising is bigger, and more important, than he thought.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be the center of attention.
I had it before. And I have it again, now.
But for entirely different reasons.
My name is James Randall Ryan IV.
My nearest and dearest call me Jamie.
My father, who is (well, now, was) not amongst my nearest and dearest, called me Jimmy. I hate that nickname, and when he died, I thanked every God in Heaven that I never had to hear it again. I wish I could say I otherwise missed the old man, but, unfortunately, I would be lying to you.
And I wouldn’t lie to you.
Not these days. And not about that.
But when I was onstage, I was known as Ivan Sapphire – glam rock god, sex symbol, pussy connoisseur, Dionysus in leather pants, Jesus Christ in sunglasses, High Priest of the Bacchanalia, Son of a Bitch of a Preacher Man.
I was all those things, and more.
I was the lead singer of a band called Faust.
We – myself, William Lynn on guitar, Jordan Barker on bass, and the Reverend Tom Newman (yes, he really was an ordained minister – granted, he got ordained online, but that’s just as valid of an ordainment as any other) on drums – played a balls-to-the-wall, blistering brand of rock’n’roll that earned us accolades, fans, fame, and a lot of money.
New York City was, at first, just our home. When Faust first started playing together, it became our playground. And by the time our careers were in full swing, New York City was ours for the taking.
Like any other band, we paid our dues in the beginning: playing Tuesday night open mics in dive bars with no name, getting tossed a $20 to split four ways at the end of the night, having to slog it out at a job the next day while nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon-induced hangover – a job that we didn’t want to be in, in the first place, because we were on the fast track to rock stardom, even if only in our own minds.
I remember the night that all changed, though. I see it clearly in my mind, as though it all happened last night.
It was a Friday night at the legendary CBGB. We were opening for a pretentious, shoe-gazing hipster rock band. I wish I could remember their name…Ars Poetica, I think it was.
But it doesn’t really matter now.
At that time in New York City rock’n’roll history, our brand of music had gone out of fashion. Gone were the days of leather-clad lesser rock gods and their songs of hedonistic excess – in our place were unshaven, unkempt navel-gazers who sang music to slit your wrists by. This was the soundtrack to your Prozac-induced manic-depressive state, kids – 50% less pussy, 100% more bitching and moaning!
Brooklyn hipster pieces of shit.
We opened for Ars Poetica because Hilly – the legendary owner of CBGB – wanted to give us a fair shot, but knew that most people were there for Ars Poetica. He figured, with all things being equal, he’d be able to earn us a few extra fans if we had a chance to get in front of their crowd.
He told us that, of the hundreds that paid the $25, with a two-drink minimum, we’d be able to get a few new converts.
If we got lucky.
He kept insisting that we should remain optimistic, but realistic.
And if we did well, he promised, we would be able to have a headlining show on a Friday night; prime real estate for a New York City rock band to obtain, at that time.
And take home $100 to split between the four of us as a consolation prize.
May he forever rock’n’roll in the afterlife.
The night came, and we stood before the crowd – wall-to-wall people, as far as the eye could see. The faces all seemed to blend into one another – men and women, black and white and every shade of tan in between, long hair and short hair in every color of the rainbow.
It was the finest representation of the old New York that so many people had come to know and love. The great American melting pot. The rock’n’roll dream come true – the music serving as the great unifier of people from the world over, and our performance, a communion of souls. Take, and eat – for it is my body of work, and it will be given up for you.
I remember feeling so nervous. I remember standing up on that stage – that filthy, piss-ridden stage that felt like it would collapse under my feet any minute – with Willie, Jordan, and Tom – my three brothers-in-arms – and looking out into the crowd to find a friendly face.
Although it didn’t happen often, if I ever got onstage and found myself feeling nervous at the prospect of performing for a maddening crowd, I would often look out into the audience and find a friendly face to sing to for most of the night. Sometimes it worked – just as many times, it didn’t – but either way, it would end with me ending up with Mrs. Right Now, with her pretty little skirt – often two sizes too tight – torn off and tossed in the back of our van and her shirt around her ears, followed by proclamations of eternal (or, at least until one or both of us got off) love, heavy panting and sweating, and various bodily fluids splattered to the walls, the floor, the seat cushions…anything that was within arm’s reach, really.
Paradise by the dashboard light, as the old song goes.
That poor, stinking van.
It wasn’t that I was a man-whore, so much that I was ready and amenable to whatever was nearby that was equally ready and amenable.
And who wouldn’t be, really, in the same circumstances? You mean to tell me that any straight, red-blooded American man who has been granted access to every size, shape, and flavor of pussy on the island of Manhattan will think of being a monk?
I think not.
And if there’s one universal truth about musicians in general – and lead singers in particular – it’s that we get into the business of music for one reason: pussy. The fame is nice, if you can get it – the money is definitely nice, if you can get it – but we get it all because, at the end of the day, we want prime-cut tenderloin pussy, and that, you can definitely get.
But that night, the friendly face I locked onto would rock my world in a way no one had ever done before.
I knew, from the minute I laid eyes on her, that I would never want anyone else ever again.
And I never did.
Seeing her inspired me to play like I’d never played before.
Oh, we were never terrible – in fact, left to our own devices, we were incendiary – but that night, we played as though the world was burning down around us. We sang the soundtrack to the apocalypse, caterwauling and squealing and throbbing and pounding our way through the lyrics and music as if it was our last night on Earth.
New York City was a big, beautiful bitch, and she was ours for the fucking.
And we fucked her but good – hard, long, slow, all night long, and we were all left panting and sweating thereafter.
We tried to set the night on fire.
And we succeeded by orders of magnitude.
And by the end of our set, we not only had the audience leaving CBGB with us – leaving barely anyone behind for Ars Poetica, those poor, navel-gazing, wrist-slitting fucking Brooklyn hipster pieces of shit – but I had Angelique’s number in my phone.
Hilly gave us the Friday night headlining slot the following week.
Angelique gave me her virginity after that show.
And thus, began our rocket ride to the top.
The press started to come out in droves to our shows after that first fateful headlining show. Article after article, and photo after photo, came out to tell all of New York City about us. We played every envied stage on the island of Manhattan: CBGB, The Continental, Arlene Grocery, The Bowery Ballroom, Mercury Lounge, Joe’s Pub, and The Bitter End.
Once, twice, three times around the island, and back again for more.
The Pirates of Happenstance. The High Priests of Chaos. The Lords of Misrule.
We sold our souls to rock’n’roll, and our bodies to the New York City rock scene.
It was amazing.
They lavished us with every accolade they could imagine, and even some we’d never heard before: Willie and I were the New Millennial Glimmer Twins – Batman and Robin with Les Pauls – Genghis Khans on a savage panty raid. As a collective, we were known as the four horsemen of the rock apocalypse, effectively rendering every other genre of music in New York City completely redundant. We were the best rock band in captivity – the buck-skinned prophets of a dying brand of cock-rock, fueled by illegal drugs and cheap beer and late nights and early mornings and starving ourselves for days on end (sometimes because we weren’t hungry, other times because there was nothing to eat, and still other times because illicit drugs are a hell of an appetite suppressant…).
We were equal parts savages, sinners, saviors and saints.
We were all those things, and more.
It was all said, written, blogged about and photographed, documented for all of prosperity and placed in a time capsule for history to be the judge.
Let history be the judge of us, and condemn us to a life of Hell, because we experienced Heaven on Earth.
The whole thing started with rock’n’roll, and then it was all out of control.
And it was all true.
With an impressive list of credentials earned over the course of two decades, Bernadette R. Giacomazzo is a multi-hyphenate in the truest sense of the word: an editor, writer, photographer, publicist, and digital marketing specialist who has demonstrated an uncanny ability to thrive in each industry with equal aplomb. Her work has been featured in Teen Vogue, People, Us Weekly, The Los Angeles Times, The New York Post, and many, many more. She served as the news editor of Go! NYC Magazine for nearly a decade, the executive editor of LatinTRENDS Magazine for five years, the eye candy editor of XXL Magazine for two years, and the editor-at-large at iOne/Zona de Sabor for two years. As a publicist, she has worked with the likes of Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson and his G-Unit record label, rapper Kool G. Rap, and various photographers, artists, and models. As a digital marketing specialist, Bernadette is Google Adwords certified, has an advanced knowledge of SEO, PPC, link-building, and other digital marketing techniques, and has worked for a variety of clients in the legal, medical, and real estate industries.
Based in New York City, Bernadette is the co-author of Swimming with Sharks: A Real World, How-To Guide to Success (and Failure) in the Business of Music (for the 21st Century), and the author of the forthcoming dystopian fiction series, The Uprising. She also contributed a story to the upcoming Beyonce Knowles tribute anthology, The King Bey Bible, which will be available in bookstores nationwide in the summer of 2018.
‘I felt exhilarated, and almost physically excited. It was as if we were making passionate love together, or at least near each other. I hated and loved every moment.’
The final installment is imminent.
Who will NOT survive?
Will the Halfway House crumble?
Find out where it all began for #Free
#Arkadia Bk 1
#Raven Bk #2
#Nevaeh Bk #3
#Ashja Bk #4
#Mali&Em Bk #5
#Merakai Bk #6
US – http://amzn.to/2ffnpeI
#Rumor Bk #7 #ComingAugust25
Dont miss out on the ending to this award winning series.
TBR – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39911554-rumor
#book #HWHSeries #PNR #RomCom #Free #romantic #comedy #buyitnow #newseries #AuthorDzintraSullivan #stalkme Author Dzintra Sullivan
Their Boss’s Daughter is NOW LIVE!!!!
Her deepest desire might be too much for her to handle…
When twenty-one-year-old Saylor Fielding spends a tiny fortune from her new trust fund on something she’s always wanted, she’s not prepared for the consequences that follow.
Her father goes ballistic about her reckless spending and when she refuses to tell him – because she really, really can’t tell him – how she spent the money, he sends her away for two weeks to live with his three favorite engineers, Finn, Reid and Jax in the middle of the desert. She is to clean their house, do their laundry and cook for them.
That something Saylor has always wanted… just happens to be Finn, Reid and Jax. And they have no idea the highest bidder at the Troika charity auction competing to spend a night with them is their strictly hands-off boss’s daughter in disguise.
All Saylor wants to do is finish her two-week sentence and escape unscathed with her secret intact, but they take one look at her and now she has to face their kind of consequences…
Publisher’s Note: This is a steamy, reverse harem love story.
Living A Lie (Living A Lie Series Part One)
Universal Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/4AgdVd
In your early adult years, you think that you know it all. Well that’s how I was looking back on my life. Nearly nineteen-years later, it’s true what they say, you always learn by your mistakes, mistakes make you into a stronger person. Boy, did I make a hell of a lot of mistakes. I never thought that my life would turn out the way that it did. There are only four things that I would never regret, my four beautiful children. They were, and still are, my saving grace, my redemption of sorts. When the darkness became too much, thoughts of them would pull me into the light.
This is my story, it’s not a story that is all sweetness and light. It’s a story of love, regret, devastation, darkness and maybe a little redemption.
So here we are, I shall start from the beginning.
***Disclaimer- Some of the content in this book can cause triggers for some. Also, contains profanity, erotic scenes and only suitable for readers 18+***
Available on all platforms
Available on Kindle & Paperback
ADD TO YOUR TBR: http://bit.ly/2NHmCU4
The President of the United States has been assassinated.
Grace Coolidge is now a widow.
She will never forget the horror of that day.
Or the betrayal of those who were sworn to protect the president.
But she’ll also never forget John Marin, the Secret Service agent who carried her to safety and saved her sanity.
Now she is forced to accept protection in order to fulfill her public duties, and he is the only man she can trust to protect her.
After the President was assassinated on his watch, John sold everything he owned and left town. He wants no part of that life, and is perfectly content with good rum and willing women.
But when Grace tracks him down and begs him to protect her, he finds it hard to resist the beautiful, haunted woman. He knows there is more to this than leading her through crowds with his hand on her back. She is hiding something, and he will stop at nothing to get to the truth.
Whatever her past, she is a lady first, and he will protect her with his life, no matter the cost.
It was only two weeks, she said. But he knows better.
A lifetime wouldn’t be enough with this woman.
About the Author:
Jade Cary wrote elaborate fantasies in her head from the time she was a small child. The fantasies included strong men and strong, loving relationships. She discovered romance novels quite by accident, once she’d devoured everything by Stephen King and Joseph Wambaugh. Desperate for something new to read, she picked up The Other Side of Midnight by Sidney Sheldon. After that, she found Scruples, by Judith Krantz. A whole new world opened up, and she buried herself in everything these authors wrote. She was fascinated with how the stories were able to capture her and take her to another place. But, more than that, she paid attention to how the words, the writing, made her feel.
She discovered a talent for writing later in life, after careers were had and kids were moving about on their own. She falls in love on a daily basis with her characters, and hopes readers will do the same.
Her first novel, The Point of it All, is the story of two people brought together under extraordinary circumstances. An unapologetic alpha hero who will stop at nothing to keep the woman he loves safe, and a strong, intelligent heroine who finds his supercilious, high-handed ways trying at best, find each other as both fight for freedom, independence, and ultimately love.
A Southern California girl born and bred, her travels to exotic locales inspire rich storytelling, her husband inspires the romance, and her kids inspire the laughs. Jade lives in SoCal with her family.
Connect with Jade!
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/260182178059410/
Title: Fling Club
Author: Tara Brown (Author)
Publication Date: August 14th, 2018
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s Reviews & PR
It’s revenge—sweet and hot—in the first book of this sexy and wickedly funny series by international bestselling author Tara Brown.
For the young, rich, and beautiful, summertime in the Hamptons means one thing: Fling Club. Only this time, Cherry Kennedy won’t be selecting a boy for a fleeting romance. Nope, this season, Cherry is out for revenge. Her target? The Fling Club founder and society darling who slept with Cherry’s now-very-ex-boyfriend. And all Cherry needs is the perfect guy for her plan…
Ashley Jardine can’t afford to refuse. He scored almost a full ride to MIT. But that almost still costs a lot. And this is so much money for a little game of revenge and a chance—albeit short—to live the high life. Here, rich girls rule the shore, and everyone has a role to play. Only nothing in the job description warned Ashley that the redhead who’s running the scheme would be so crazy. And cute. Or that he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about her.
Now, everything is going according to plan—until an unexpected attraction raises the stakes. It’s enough to turn the perfect payback into absolute heartbreak.
I believe growing up in a really small town gives a person a little advantage when it comes to the imagination. You need one or you go mad.
Needless to say, mine saved me. After it got me into trouble first, that is. That’s the problem with a vivid imagination, all the lies you tell.
I am happily married with two daughters.
I have two giant dogs, two savage cats, and a penchant for a glass of red.
Also, I drag my bread through the sauce. I can’t help myself, bread is life.
According to my age, I am meant to be a responsible adult, but it isn’t going well at all. I would still head off to Hogwarts tomorrow and I suspect there isn’t a single wardrobe I haven’t crept into, hoping to find the door to Narnia. And don’t even get me started on the King’s Road, I get lost.
Fortunately, I am an international bestseller so I have wormed my way into a quirky or eccentric category.
Thank God for that.
I am represented by Natalie Lakosil from the Bradford Literary Agency and am published traditionally with Montlake Romance.
Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/tarabrownauthor/